


Freelance Good Guys: Ratbone Throne

by TheGreys (alienjpeg)



Series: Looming Gaia [16]
Category: Freelance Good Guys, Looming Gaia
Genre: Action/Adventure, Animal Death, Body Horror, Disturbing Themes, Drama, Elves, Fantasy, Horror, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Magic, Team as Family, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjpeg/pseuds/TheGreys
Summary: A foul horror lurks beneath the World Athenaeum. The Freelance Good Guys must hit the sewers to find this monstrosity before it eats all the world’s knowledge. All the while, Isaac faces a moral dilemma as he tries to uncover the truth about the Athenaeum’s research.





	Freelance Good Guys: Ratbone Throne

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags for content warnings. This story is part of the Looming Gaia/Freelance Good Guys series and won't make a lot of sense without reading the others first.
> 
> For concept art, discussions, and more about the Looming Gaia series, check out the blog here: https://loominggaia.tumblr.com/post/175087795478/looming-gaia-masterpost

The advancement of knowledge was the World Athenaeum’s top priority. Just behind knowledge was security.

 

     Guards patrolled the long halls of this institution day and night. The whole campus was enclosed by stone walls standing ten men tall. Each structure could withstand blow after blow from catapults, its awkward entrances easily defended from armies, its moat vast and deep…

 

     But these grand measures were no obstacle for a simple titan rat, squirming its way through the Athenaeum’s plumbing system. Repulsive was this creature in every way, with its beady pink eyes and overgrown teeth, fur caked with grime and crawling with parasites.

 

     This titan rat was still a juvenile. Only five pounds or so, but destined to triple its bulk someday. For now, it was still small enough to squeeze through these rusty old pipes, and it did so until it finally found its way to a drain screen.

 

     The wire mesh gave way in minutes, ground and warped between crooked yellow teeth. The rat struggled and wriggled its spongy body through the drain, then found itself in a porcelain bathtub. Quickly it scrambled its way over the side and through the door left ajar.

 

     In daylight hours, the sun beamed through the stained glass windows of these halls. Now as it approached midnight, the rat could scurry along unseen in the bold shadows. Its claws skittered softly across the marble floors. It made a turn and then another, turning and turning and twitching its nose in the air. Finally, it found its way into the library.

 

     Unlike the corridors, the library was well-lit by golden chandeliers. Flame would threaten the books, so the chandeliers held balls of magical light in place of candles. The minervae held their library dear. Should anything happen to their precious books, they would surely die of grief…

 

     Or otherwise.

 

     The plotting rat spied on the minervae from the shadows before making its next move. Cautiously it crept into the room, rushing from shadow to shadow like an assassin on a mission. The minervae did not rest. Every day, every hour, these giant-sized nymphs worked tirelessly in their giant-sized facility to uncover the giant-sized mysteries of the unknown.

 

     The work was grueling and endless, but the rat cared not for the minervae’s efforts. It found a fat leather-bound book left unattended on a table and snatched it, quick as a striking cobra. Despite the book’s size, it was light as a feather, for it was no ordinary book.

 

     This was a magical Tome of Infinity, containing all the knowledge of a minervae.

 

     This minervae had stepped away from her tome for only a minute. A minute was all the rat needed to drag her book away into the shadows and begin laying waste to it. Its teeth pierced the leather, claws tearing away paper, jaws effortlessly gnawing through the spine.

 

     Back in the library, the studious minervae were none the wiser. All but one, an elegant minervae in pearls who suddenly let out a piercing shriek. She dropped to her knees in the middle of the room, crumpled down and writhed in misery, all while her many sisters rushed to her aid.

 

     The room swelled with panic, for her book was nowhere to be found. Ruptures suddenly opened on her brown skin from head to toe, as if some invisible force was tearing her to shreds. Burgundy wine gushed from her wounds, pooling around her on the gleaming white floor.

 

     Within minutes, the minervae was silent and gone. Left in her place was her rumpled gown and a pearl necklace, lying damp in a puddle of wine and shredded flesh.

 

     The flesh morphed into a flock of twitching butterflies. The butterflies soon shook off their wet, glossy wings and flittered away through the windows while the other nymphs searched frantically for their late sister’s Tome of Infinity.

 

     It was Destiny who discovered it lying skeletonized in the corridor. The rat was still gnawing at its shredded remains. It was so occupied, it didn’t notice the eight-foot-tall minervae creeping up from behind.

 

     The last thing it saw was the silver edge of a letter opener, and then it saw nothing at all.

 

     The rat was dead. Stricken down by Destiny, though the minervae knew this violence would not bring her sister back. All it may yield was an answer to a question.

 

     Was this truly an act of nature?

 

*

 

     _SPRING, 6006_

 

     Captain Evan Atlas knew that if he accepted this contract, his company would be losing money on travel expenses alone.

 

     But if he rejected it, he and his crew would be losing an opportunity to visit the World Athenaeum—the largest and most prestigious repository of knowledge on Looming Gaia.

 

     So Evan decided to eat the cost, and the very next day, he and his five best crewmen were soaring towards Matuzu Capital by roc. They flew over miles of forest, rivers, and the vast Serkel Desert before reaching the Midland Jungle.

 

     Here, the ivory spires of the capital pierced through the canopy, each one gleaming in the punishing sun.

 

     Shadow screeched as she neared the landing strip, signaling her arrival. Flaggers below waved the mighty black bird down. Turbulence rocked the crew in her canvas gazebo, clutched tightly in her talons as she descended. Then she made her landing, clumsy as usual. The crew cried out as they spilled onto the floor.

 

     But they all arrived in one piece, here in Matuzu Kingdom’s oldest and largest city. The capital was home to the high king and queen, it was the foundation of the kingdom’s whole economy, and most importantly, it was the location of the World Athenaeum.

 

     Shadow sat perched upon the gazebo while the Freelance Good Guys climbed out. The runway was a vast field of dirt where harnessed cargo dragons groaned over their cuds. They were massive reptilian beasts, just one of their wings dwarfing Shadow’s body.

 

     Evan slipped a worker some coins, then the worker led Shadow away to a stable. She would remain there as the crew made their way into the city proper. Lukas, Glenvar, Alaine, Jeimos, and Isaac joined their captain on this job. Though 6 mercenaries was certainly overkill for a simple vermin problem, that was never the point.

 

     Some of them had never been to the World Athenaeum before. Evan wanted them to experience such a place and to experience it again for himself. He’d been here briefly in the past to meet with clients and other such things. He’d seen only a tiny fraction of the giant compound, the few sections open to the public. But hearsay had painted a grand image in his head over the years of what may lie deeper inside.

 

     Evan passed some coins to a carriage driver. More profits down the drain and he flushed them without a second thought. The driver was also the horse—rather, the centaur. Her equine body was fitted with a harness and attached to a rickety wagon. The wheels creaked and the carriage bumped down the pristine streets of the capital.

 

     Matuzan soldiers seemed to be posted on every corner, standing stoic in their spartan leather armor. Wealthy civilians bustled along in their fine beaded garments, adorned with colorful feathers and jewelry of gold. It was just after high sun and the smell of sizzling, baking, smoking cuisine was filling the air.

 

     The carriage maneuvered through these busy streets, all the way to the gates of the World Athenaeum. A soldier stood guard at this gate, with at least six more standing on the wall above. Some human, some elven, some otherwise. Diversity was the Matuzan military’s greatest strength.

 

     It would be best to mind their manners here, Evan thought. So he turned to lecture his motley crew before they passed through the gate. “Listen,” he began, “the World Athenaeum is no school. It is no library and it is no museum. It is an institution well above all of those things, a place where only the world’s best and brightest are welcome.”

 

     His green eyes met each of his crewmens’. He continued lowly, slowly, “To pass through this gate is a great privilege, and it can be revoked in the blink of an eye. So, we need to be on our best behavior as long as we’re within these walls. Don’t disturb anyone who seems important, don’t touch anything that seems expensive…and for gods’ sakes, _don’t_ unsheathe your weapons unless you intend to kill! Do you understand?”

 

     Evan threw a glance at the guards, scrutinizing his crew from the distance. The mercenaries mumbled their responses and approached the gate, where they were promptly frisked, identified, and checked-in. Each of them was allowed just one small dagger on their person before entering. No swords, no spears, no bombs, whips, hammers, or bows.

 

     The guards were left with a mountain of pointy and explosive loot as the Freelance Good Guys were finally cleared. “Don’t forget to pick this stuff up when you leave,” one of the guards called. Evan waved back at him while another guard escorted them to the towering double-doors.

 

     A minervae greeted them in the foyer, clutching a leather-bound tome closely to her chest. She stood above them all, eight feet high with hair seven feet long. This hair was as pink as a Matuzan lily, bound in a braid that nearly touched the floor. She was curvaceous of structure and rich brown of skin. Her doe-ish eyes were just as pink as the hair on her head.

 

     Also pink were her lips, burdened by a heavy frown. She regarded the mercenaries with a solemn nod and an outstretched hand. Glenvar set eyes upon her and they rounded like coins, teeth flashing in an ear-to-ear grin. He let out a low whistle and hissed, “Now _that’s_ a _stira_ worth killin’ for!”

 

     The whole crew was ready to pounce, but Lukas got to him first. He threw an arm around the short man’s head and clamped a hand over his mouth.

 

     Evan dropped to one knee, planted a chaste kiss upon the minervae’s hand as was the local custom. He greeted her, “You must be Ms. Destiny. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

     “Yes,” she said. “So you’re Captain Atlas. My sisters and I have eagerly awaited your arrival. We’ve been beside ourselves ever since the incident, and I fear nothing will get done around here until we know it’s safe.”

Evan nodded. “I understand. Before we get started, would you care to give me the details on this ‘incident’?”

 

     With a sweep of her arm, Destiny gestured for them to follow as she walked down a long hall. She was clad in a beaded bolero top, her long, pale skirt billowing behind her. Her clothes were light and thin, appropriate for the Midland heat.

 

     The mercenaries trailed behind her in their sweltering foreign armor, silently sweating waterfalls as she explained, “Almost two weeks ago, one of the minervae lost her life. Her Tome of Infinity was destroyed by a _titan rat_ , of all things.”

 

     Destiny shook her head and sighed, clutching her own tome closer. “My sisters think there is no one to blame; that it was a simple act of nature. But I disagree. It was I who caught the beast in the act, and I swear, I sensed magical energy upon it. But emotion got the best of me, and I regret to say that I killed it before we could investigate.”

 

     She pushed a heavy door open, leading the crew into a library so vast that it could nearly be called a town. The ceiling stretched on for ten stories, sunlight beaming in from the stained glass roof. Bookshelves stretched on and on, each one packed to the brim. The shelves were arranged like a maze. The mercenaries were sure they’d get lost in no time if they didn’t stick close to Destiny.

 

     She led them to a something of a memorial site, where cards, lush bouquets, and trinkets were placed on the floor. The tiles below were stained a faint burgundy color.

 

     “This is where Elegance fell,” she continued, then pointed towards another exit, “and just through that doorway is where I found the rat with her tome. Perhaps it was foolish of her to let the tome out of her sight, but it is something I admit we are all guilty of from time to time.”

 

     The minervae’s gaze dropped to her beaded sandals. “It is something we never had to worry about. We have never felt unsafe here before! The Athenaeum is our _home_. To think someone craves our blood so badly, someone so malicious that they would attack us in this sanctuary…”

 

     She anxiously fingered her long braid. “Well, I just hope that I’m wrong. Whether this is an act of nature or not, the library has been infested with vermin ever since. They come in the night and destroy the books. By the time we discover the damage, they are long gone. They kill every cat we release overnight. They ignore the food in our traps, so don’t waste your time with bait either—it’ll only attract ants. These rats are as cunning as naughty children.”

 

     Destiny turned back to Evan. “We shall clutch our tomes in our trembling hands until we know the source of this madness. I beg you, please find out where these creatures are coming from and put an end to it!”

 

*

 

     The Freelance Good Guys began their investigation that afternoon. There was much ground to cover, so they split into pairs to cover it faster. Alaine and Glenvar searched the library’s bottom floor, if only because Glenvar refused to climb the long, winding stairs.

 

     Alaine’s keen eyes scanned for stray hairs, scratch marks, droppings—anything that looked out of place on these pristine shelves. Meanwhile, Glenvar’s eyes were fixated on the minervae as they anxiously bustled about. One of the nymphs passed by him and he whirled around to watch her go.

 

     “Would you pay attention?” Alaine snapped back at him. “We’re supposed to be looking for rat shit.”

Glenvar whispered, “Ya expect a _maska_ pay attention with all these nymphs around? Yer crazy! Look at ‘em, smugglin’ all them melons under their clothes!”

 

     The mermaid rolled her eyes. “You’re a pig,” she sighed.

“Blame my ma,” Glenvar joked, let out a porcine snort and gave her a shove. She shoved him back harder, slamming him against a shelf.

 

     A few books shook loose and he scrambled to catch them. Most of them fell to the floor, but the one in his hands seemed to be in the roughest shape.

 

     The cover was marred by little scratches, the edges nibbled away. Some of the pages were completely shredded. “Hey Allie, look at this one!” said Glenvar, waving the book towards her.

 

     Alaine snatched it from him and examined the interior. She plucked a single hair from a page. It was short and silvery-brown. She set the book aside and examined the shelf it had fallen from. Together, she and Glenvar cleared a space on the shelf, then a strong odor wafted up.

 

     Alaine jerked back, wrinkled her nose. “Ugh! Yep, that’s rat piss. They were here pretty recently. Look around this shelf for hairs and we’ll see if we can get a trail.”

 

     The two set to work, while on the balcony just above them, Lukas and Evan were investigating in their own way. Evan slowly meandered down the aisles, trying to sniff out anything unusual. If there were rats to be found, his lycanthrope nose surely wouldn’t miss them.

 

     But how these minervae felt about lycanthropes, he didn’t know. So he looked around, made sure no one was watching before dropping to the floor to sniff the tiles. Lukas stood at the other end of the aisle, distracted by a book that piqued his interest.

 

     He jumped with a start when something bumped his leg. He looked down, saw Evan crawling around his feet like an animal.

 

     Lukas shook his head and said, “You tell _us_ to behave, yet _you’re_ the one acting like a basket case…”

“I think I picked up a trail. Follow me,” Evan told him. He rose to his feet and hurried further down the aisle. Lukas reluctantly shut the book, returned it to the shelf and obeyed.

 

     High above on the topmost floor of the library, Jeimos and Isaac had found their first clue. A trail of paper shavings led them to an innocuous door. The trail continued under it, but the knob wouldn’t turn. Locked.

 

     “Perhaps we should ask for a key?” suggested Jeimos. Isaac looked around the spacious room. They were alone up here, with all the minervae gathered on the lower floors. The nymphs seemed apprehensive about wandering out of eachothers’ sight.

Isaac slapped the air and replied, “Naaah. Just zoop in and unlock it from inside.”

 

     The elf’s brows sagged, hangs wringing anxiously. “You’re sure that’s wise? I feel like we should get permission first.”

“It’s just an old office or something. Let’s hurry up while the trail’s still warm!”

Jeimos turned to the door with a sigh. Their gloved hands lit up like candles. Then with a simple clap, they disappeared in a burst of glittering light.

 

     Isaac waited. Seconds later, white light briefly flashed under the gap in the door. He heard a muffled shriek on the other side, followed by utter chaos. Furniture thrown or toppled, heavy footfalls, banging and crashing—

“Jay!” Isaac called, throwing himself forth to pound on the door. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

 

     The thrashing and crashing continued. Jeimos cried frantically from the other side, “It’s the size of a pumpkin! It’s coming—it’s coming right for me! Isaac—Isaac— _Isaac,_ _help me_!”

 

     They punctuated themselves with a long screech. The boy twisted the doorknob with all his might. It wouldn’t budge.

 

     “Unlock the door!” he called. The elf warbled a response, completely unintelligible between their terror and all the chaos in the room. Then he jumped back with a start as a creature shoved its head under the door’s gap. Beady red eyes and twisted yellow teeth, notched ears and greasy fur.

 

     A titan rat indeed. Too titan to squeeze under the door, Isaac realized as he watched it struggle. It clawed and wriggled, but it could not escape. Nor could it pull itself back the way it came. Now it was lodged there between the door and the tiles, screeching helplessly.

 

     “Hey, buddy,” Isaac said gently. He kneeled before the creature and extended a loose hand. “Don’t be scared. I’ll help you out, okay? Just hold still—”

 

     Then the door opened. Jeimos peeked through the other side, and quick as a flash, the rat made its escape. Isaac lunged for it as it dashed away. It was too fast for him, and then it was scurrying away down an aisle of books.

“Jeimos, it’s getting away!” Isaac exclaimed, then took off in pursuit.

 

     The elf cursed, stumbled over their own feet as they followed. The two chased the creature all through the maze of aisles. When it tried to hide in a shelf, Isaac ripped the books away and exposed it.

 

     Jeimos ducked behind a book cart, tried to catch it by surprise as it sprinted down the way. They lunged for it, missed, and fell onto their face. Isaac tripped over them when he came barreling after the rat.

 

     From the floor, the two mercenaries watched their target disappear down the staircase.

“It’s going downstairs! Get it, get it, get it!” hissed Isaac. They scrambled to their feet and rushed after it.

 

     Isaac reached for the rat. It jumped out of his grasp and scurried down the banister. It would reach the ground long before they did, so Jeimos took a shortcut through time and space.

 

     They clapped their magical hands together and disappeared once more. Just a moment later, a portal of light opened above a round table far below, where several minervae were hard at work studying a stack of books.

 

     Isaac watched from the stairs, cringed when Jeimos came tumbling out of the portal and smacked down in the center of the table. Books scattered, papers flew, and minervae cried out in shock. It seemed the elf misjudged their coordinates again.

 

     Peeking over the railing, Isaac could see the rat still winding its way down a support beam. It was making a beeline for the bottom floor. So too would Isaac, when he climbed over the railing, ripped off his leather belt and wrapped it around the beam. He clutched each end, then hugged the beam and went sliding down.

 

     Jeimos sputtered their apologies to the minervae as they gathered the misplaced books and research notes. Then they saw Isaac slide down a pole to their right, clumsily feeding his belt back through its loops as he chased the titan rat through a doorway. Jeimos abandoned their manners and leaped off the table after him, leaving the minervae to their mess.

 

     The two chased the animal down a long corridor. Students and staff jumped aside when the pumpkin-sized rat darted under their feet. It led the mercenaries through the open door of a bathroom. To their surprise, it was already occupied by four other people.

 

     Evan, Lukas, Glenvar, and Alaine were standing around the bath tub. They suddenly parted, crying out in surprise as the rat scurried between them and into the tub. It tried to shove itself down the drain. But like before, it had grown too fat feasting on books and simply got itself stuck.

 

     Isaac and Jeimos joined the others, watching the poor animal’s wriggling backside. Isaac stepped into the tub and carefully closed his hands around its body. With a good tug, it came free.

 

     The others backed away, cautious as the rat crawled up Isaac’s torso and made itself comfortable on his shoulder.

 

     “He’s just scared,” Isaac explained, giving its neck a scratch. “He won’t bite anyone.”

Evan replied sternly, “That beast is probably riddled with disease! Put it down and wash your hands, boy.”

“No way! He can lead us to the nest,” Isaac told him.

 

     Alaine said, pointing to the tub, “Already found it. We followed the tracks right to this drain, and that means we just have to block it up.”

“Yep!” added Glenvar. He picked up a rubber plug from the tub’s edge and stuffed it in the drain.

 

     With that, he brushed his hands together and declared, “Mission accomplished! Now let’s get some rounds. My knees are killin’ me…”

 

     Evan shook his head. “No,” he began, “it means the rats are likely coming in from the sewers. Let’s head down there and do a little exterminating, shall we?”

“The _sewers_?” Lukas groaned, wrinkling his nose. The others groaned alongside him.

 

     Evan led them out of the room and said, “Are you lot feeling sick? Because there’s a lot of bellyaching going on here…”

 

     Alaine rolled her eyes. “We’ll really be feeling sick after breathing shit-gas from the—”

“Language, Ms. Fontaine,” Evan reminded her. He tipped his head towards Isaac. “There are children present, mind you.”

“I’m fifteen! I’m not a _child_!” the boy exclaimed. The rat was still calmly perched upon his shoulder as they moved down the corridor.

 

     Alaine queried, “What about ‘crap’? Can we say ‘crap’?”

“No,” Evan sighed. “Say, uh…waste.”

“Waste? Heh, yeah, ‘cause we’re gonna be _waist_ -deep in shite…” said Glenvar.

 

     Evan palmed at his eyes, throwing a polite wave towards a scandalized minervae who passed them in the hall.

 

*

 

     Just outside the building, the mercenaries found a metal manhole cover. Alaine jammed her spear into the socket and lifted it away, exposing a ladder leading down into a black abyss.

 

     Evan took the lead, the others close behind. They stepped upon a damp stone walkway. There was a channel of filthy water beside it and buzzing, flickering light bulbs strung up along the walls of the dim tunnel.

 

     The air was humid and heavy, the sour stench overpowering. Lukas pulled his bandana from his neck to his nose. Glenvar doubled over and vomited in the channel.

 

     “Glen!” Evan scolded.

The round man spit on the walkway and snapped, “What? Can’t make it no worse down here than it is, Chief!”

 

     “There may be maintenance crews here,” Evan explained to them, “so let’s be no less respectful than we’d be topside. Understood?”

Lukas crossed his arms, said, “You think guys who splash through _waste_ for a living will judge us for being less than polite? Knowing this godforsaken kingdom, they’re probably slaves anyway…”

 

     Evan hushed him and led his crew down the pathway. It was long and dim, with several branching areas marked by grimy signage. The path was littered with mysterious puddles, scraps of discarded wood and plastic, wrappers, scrap metal, general refuse. It was all strewn around and tattered, as if something had been gnawing at it.

 

     Among all the garbage were titan rat droppings. Some of these grape-sized pellets were years-old and dry, others clearly minutes-fresh. The crew followed them up until they reached a four-way intersection. The droppings and trash extended in all directions.

 

     “Ugh, there must be _thousands_ of them…” Alaine shuddered. “Let’s just firebomb the place and call it a day!”

Evan shook his head. “Won’t do any good. All this trash will just keep them coming back. I think we should destroy the nest, then tell Destiny about all the garbage down here. By the state of this place, those maintenance guys might need a talking to.”

 

     Isaac shrugged the rat off his shoulder and placed it on the ground. He said, “Show us to your nest, Pumpkin. Come on, boy!”

“ _Pumpkin_?” Lukas queried. “Oh no, he named it already…”

“We’re not keeping that thing, Isaac,” Evan told the boy flatly.

 

     “I know, I know,” Isaac grumbled back. Pumpkin’s nose twitched at the air. The rat followed some scent down the western pathway. Isaac trailed it with the rest of the crew in tow.

 

     They rounded the corner, then froze in shock. Pumpkin scampered well ahead of them and lined up beside a horde of other titan rats. Fifty of them at least, all standing at the very edge of the channel.

 

     They chirped and chattered, noses twitching in the air as they stood anxiously on their hind legs. They were waiting for something, it seemed. But what?

 

     The crew waited with them, keeping their distance in the shadows. A long, grueling half-hour passed. Still the rats gathered anxiously by the channel side.

Glancing at his pocket watch, Lukas muttered, “The stench is killing me. This is a waste of time! These stupid animals don’t know anything.”

 

     Just as Evan turned to hush him, they heard a soft splashing ahead. The mercenaries squinted in the darkness. A faint light was approaching—a lantern dangling off the end of a canoe.

 

     In the canoe were two rowing mermaids and a great burlap sack buzzing with flies.

 

     “Dorikori!” hissed Alaine. She shoved her crew deeper into the shadows with her, peeking around a tangle of leaky pipes.

“Who?” queried Lukas.

Alaine stared intensely at the mermaids as she quietly replied, “They’re Aquarian Alliance soldiers. Mermaids like me, except nothing like me. They have no brains.”

“So _exactly_ like you,” Glenvar snickered.

 

     Alaine jerked his earlobe. “They’re no joke, Glen! They could kill us all before we knew what hit us!” Her gaze flicked up to the others. “What are they doing here? D-do you think they’re looking for me?”

“No, Alaine. Just stay calm,” Evan replied quickly, observing the mermaids closely through the pipes. “Let’s see where they go.”

 

     The rats became restless as the canoe approached. They chattered and chirped excitedly, crawling over eachother in a big furry pile. Some fell over the side and splashed into the filthy channel.

 

     The canoe stopped nearby and the mermaids stepped out. They were clad in Alliance armor of blue and white, all scales and shells with sandals upon their scaly feet.

 

     Like Alaine’s, their lips were shiny and blue, their hair surely the same color under their pointed helms. The soldiers lifted the heavy bag together, struggling to step over the rats that now swarmed their feet. They were making their way down another corridor.

 

     Evan turned to his crew and nodded. Slowly, quietly, they crept behind him as he led the way. They trailed the mermaids and the swarm of rats down the dim passage, but at the very end, it was not so dim. A lightbulb dangled from a rotting cord, shining its light upon a throne of tiny bones.

 

     The crew backed into a dark nook and peeked around its edge. For a long moment, they couldn’t even tell what they were looking at. Something was sitting upon the throne, what they thought at first was more trash. But it was wriggling and alive, a mass of flesh, hair, bones, and rot.

 

     “Ugh!” Alaine gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth. Finally she realized what it was, and soon the others did too. They reacted in much the same manner, groaning and shaking their heads in disbelief.

 

     Sitting upon the bone throne was a faunae. A beautiful blood-nymph, keeper of beasts. But this faunae’s beauty had given way to horror, for all but her face was obscured by thousands of rats. Their tails were braided into her long, matted hair, and so too were their bones and claws. About half of them were alive and writhing, the other half long dead and skeletonized.

 

     Rat corpses covered her head-to-toe, each one in a different state of decay. They tangled together into a putrid web of fur and feces that bound the faunae to the throne. She was no less tangled with the rats than the rats were tangled with her. She was literally one with the beasts.

 

     “I’m gonna puke, I’m seriously gonna puke—” Isaac whimpered under his hands.

“Don’t,” Evan warned sharply, reluctantly turning back to the throne. They watched as the mermaid soldiers placed their bag before the throne.

 

     The hideous faunae smiled down at the offering, sharp teeth bared and yellow eyes aglow. “Looks like it’s lunch time, my friends! Pay the nice ladies for their trouble, won’t you?” she said.

 

     Her voice echoed down the corridor, shrill as an angry cat. The skittering rats dispersed into the shadows, though only for a short moment. They soon returned, carrying all manner of things glittery and gold.

 

     Rings, necklaces, and baubles were placed at the soldiers’ feet. The mermaids gathered them without a word, then simply saluted the faunae before turning and marching back down the corridor. The mercenaries watched them go. They stepped back into their canoe and disappeared just as suddenly as they showed up.

 

     Meanwhile, the faunae’s voice boomed throughout the sewer, “Feast and multiply, my friends! Feast and multiply!” The sack disappeared under a swarm of wriggling titan rats. In just seconds they dispersed, leaving nothing but a few scraps of burlap behind.

 

     “See you guys at the inn,” said Lukas. Evan snatched his wrist as he threatened to walk away.

“We face this as a team,” the captain told his crew. “Just follow my lead.”

 

     His crew tried to protest, but Evan was already moving forward. Reluctantly they followed in his shadow, holding their noses at the worsening stench. It grew stronger with every step they took towards the throne.

 

     Hundreds of yellow rat-eyes leered at them from the nooks and crannies of the corridors, blinking like stars.

 

     Evan raised his right palm, offering a strained smile. The faunae looked down at him with disinterest.

“Hello, miss,” greeted the captain. “Captain Evan Atlas speaking. I’m with the Freelance Good Guys. We’re investigating a matter on behalf of the World Athenaeum. Perhaps you can give us a hand?”

 

     The faunae’s pale lips twisted into a scowl. Her face was quite human in structure, though dark markings stretched across it like a tiger’s stripes. She growled, “How dare you address us as if we’re some lowly peasants! You speak to the Rat Queen, Captain, and you will kneel in our presence!”

 

     Evan’s brows jumped. She seemed the furthest thing from royalty he’d ever seen. Still, he shot a nod back to his crew and dropped to one knee. They silently followed suit.

 

     “My apologies, uh, Your Highness,” said Evan. Sometimes his lycanthrope nose was a blessing, but this was not one of those times. He briefly gagged before he continued, voice strained, “Please forgive our transgressions. We’re not from this region, you see.”

 

     “Clearly,” the Rat Queen replied dully. Her cloak of vermin squirmed and squealed around her as she went on, “Now, tell us what you want and do it quickly. You’re interrupting our lunch.”

 

     Evan cleared his throat and explained, “The Athenaeum’s been having some rat problems lately. We believe they’re coming from here in the sewer.” He looked the queen up and down. “You seem like you might know a thing or two about it.”

 

     The faunae laughed, high and shrill. The rats chattered loudly around her. Her fanged smile stretched ear-to-ear when she giggled, “Look, little friends! They sent a handful of goons after us! How cute is that?”

 

     “Just tell us what you know, lady!” snapped Lukas, suddenly rising to his feet. “I’d sooner put an arrow in your face than spend another minute in this cess-hole! You’re obviously behind all this, so fess up already!”

“Lukas!” hissed Evan, but it was already too late. The faunae’s glare bore into them like a drill.

 

     “Know that there are two sides to every war,” she told them calmly. “Yes, we’ve been launching attacks on the minervae. But that pales in comparison to what they’ve done to us!”

Evan cocked an eyebrow, slowly rising to his feet. “And what’s that?”

 

     “If you’re not from around here, then perhaps you don’t know,” began the Rat Queen, “but the Athenaeum is just a façade. A twisted dungeon lies beneath and twisted sadists lie within. Those wretched minervae have everyone fooled! Don’t let them blind you with their tricks!”

 

     “Oh boy,” Glenvar muttered, “this is gonna be one of _those_ jobs, innit?”

Alaine shushed him and the Rat Queen continued, “Ask the beasts and they will tell you what exactly happens within those walls. Rats flayed, monkeys eviscerated, dogs mutilated! The minervae revel in this bloodbath every day! They are not the innocent, dignified creatures they pretend to be. They’re just another monster, carelessly spit out by the whore-divine, Karenza!”

 

     The faunae’s voice escalated with every word, piercing as it echoed down the tunnel. The mercenaries winced and exchanged silent glances.

 

     Evan cleared his throat, then asked her, “So, do you have any proof of your claims?”

“The word of the beasts is proof enough,” she told him. “Long ago, an old titan rat escaped the Athenaeum’s lab. Her condition brought me to tears! The things she had seen and the things done to her, you would cry too!”

 

     Her slitted pupils opened ever so slightly, thick brows sagged above. “Mother Gaia birthed me to protect these lovely little creatures. If not for me, then who would? Nobody sees how clever, how loving and graceful they are! They only see filthy vermin.”

 

     She frowned, gaze falling. “We are one now, the rats and I. It was the penance I paid for failing them. Now I have no choice but to protect them, for I am them and they are me.”

 

     Her eyes flicked back up to her audience, soulful and desperate. “Do you understand now? Do you realize that we are the true victims here? This is not a war; this is a senseless slaughter of our kin!”

 

     The mercenaries stood silent and wide-eyed. Leaning towards Evan, Glenvar whispered, “She’s nuttier than squirrel shite, chief.” He paused. “I mean, squirrel _waste_.”

Lukas added, “You heard her confess. Let’s book her and go!”

 

     Evan scrubbed at his forehead in thought. After a moment, he sighed, “I’m sorry, mi—er, Your Highness. But seeing as we’re on contract with the Athenaeum and you’ve confessed to your crimes, we’re going to have to take you in. You can present your case to the Matuzan court. We’re just simple mercenaries with a job to do.” He extended a gloved hand. “Now, will you come peacefully?”

 

     The Rat Queen’s dark lips curled into a smirk. Her shrill laugh vibrated around them, rats squirming wildly. “When you pry me from my putrid, ugly throne!” she cackled.

 

     Thousands of stars poured out from the shadows around her. But they were not stars, they were the eyes of giant rats, swarming towards the mercenaries like a fetid tidal wave of hair and teeth.

 

     “Jeimos, shield!” barked Evan. Jeimos’ hands lit up with a magical light, shining though the thin fabric of their thin gloves. When they splayed their fingers, a ring of flame burst to life around the crew.

 

     The rats ran frantic circles around them in search of an opening. The flames could only burn for so long.

 

     Evan reached for his greatsword and grabbed an empty sheath. Lukas palmed the air at his back where his bow would usually be. They shared a moment of confusion until Lukas slapped his forehead and groaned, “Did we seriously leave our weapons at the gate?”

 

     “Aw, ya gotta be kiddin’ me!” wailed Glenvar. “Bunch of idiots, aren’t we? Feck us all, we _deserve_ to die!”

“Just blast all the rats, Jay!” called Alaine.

The elf cocked their head. “Quite sorry, but I’m not trapping you lot in a tunnel with a thousand flaming animals!”

 

     From her throne, the Rat Queen crowed, “What cold, dead hearts you have! To hear our plight and choose the side of our enemy!”

“You’ve proven nothing,” Evan told her through the flames. “If you’re so confident in your case, then present it to the court!”

 

     Baring her fangs, the faunae growled, “You really _aren’t_ from around here, are you? You clearly don’t know how things work in this land. Well, that’ll change soon enough. You will become one with the Rat Queen! One with us! Then you will finally understand!”

 

     Perhaps their weapons were sitting at the gate. But the mercenaries still had one dagger each, and Lukas pulled his from his boot. He tossed it up, caught the end of its blade.

 

     “Just give me the word,” he told Evan, “and I’ll sink this right between her eyes.”

“We won’t have proof for the minervae if we don’t take her alive,” argued Evan.

 

     Lukas swept his hand towards her and blurted, “Are you joking? What are we supposed to do—pry her crusty hide off the wall?”

Before Evan could answer, Isaac cried, “I got it!” and snatched the dagger from Lukas.

 

     The others tried to stop him, but in an instant, the boy leaped over Evan’s shoulder and vaulted himself over the wall of flame. He scrambled over the undulating wave of rats below.

 

     They paid him no mind, for he was blessed with his special gift of animal harmony. The Rat Queen’s eyes rounded as he approached. She began to sweat, wriggling in her throne.

 

     She was stuck with years—perhaps decades—worth of filth that bound her right where she sat. She could hardly move her head, much less her body when Isaac crawled up her putrid cloak that spilled all down the front of her platform.

 

     “Get away from us! You cursed child, don’t you touch us!” she shrieked. Isaac gritted his teeth, eyes watering at her stench as he clambered onto her lap.

“I’m not gonna hurt you! You need help!” he told her, and then with a quick flick of the dagger he severed a live rat’s tail. It tumbled down into the swarm below.

 

     Swiftly he slashed through every pink tail he saw. The faunae screeched all the while, shouted empty threats, spit on his face. There was nothing she could do when he sawed the dagger through her hair. He started close to the scalp, and with every motion, her fat crown of filth came looser.

 

     The clump was topped with a ring of rat skulls, tiny bones sticking out every which way like spires. Isaac cringed as he seized it and ripped it away. Tiny roaches poured out of it like brown rice when it hit the floor.

 

     In the circle of fire, the mercenaries recoiled and let out wails of disgust. Evan was quick to pull Lukas’ locks back when he doubled over and vomited on Glenvar’s boots.

 

     The Rat Queen’s hair seemed to be the keystone to the whole mass. It began crumbling to pieces as she flailed within. Roaches skittered out, rat bones rattled, and finally she was free from her horrible prison of rot.

 

     Her nude skin was sickly-pale and riddled with sores. Her once hairy, prehensile tail was stripped bare. The tips of her once pointed ears had rotted away, leaving short nubs in their place.

 

     The faunae swiped at Isaac’s face with her clawed fingers. But her arms were scrawny and frail, and when he seized her wrist, she could not break his grip.

 

     “Let go! You evil little monster! You’re fighting for the wrong side!” she shrieked. Isaac shoved her to the floor with a grunt. She rolled off the throne and fell limply on the concrete below, her muscles far too atrophied to save her. She hardly had the strength to lift her head as the boy stepped towards her.

 

     “No! My friends! Help me! Please, help me!” the Rat Queen cried, reaching for her dear rats. The animals only regarded her with blank, beady stares. Her enchantment over them had somehow waned. They began to disperse, waddling away into the darkness. She desperately called for them, but they never returned.

 

     “Looks clear,” said Evan. Jeimos lowered their glowing hands with a relieved sigh, wiping the sweat off their brow with their sleeve. The wall of flame died in a puff of smoke.

 

     All six mercenaries surrounded the Rat Queen, now a queen no more. Now she was simply a sickly, naked nymph, sobbing pathetically in a dark sewer.

 

     “What have you done?” she wailed. “You’ve doomed us! Them! _Me_! We will all suffer because of you! The slaughter will never end!”

 

     “You need some serious intervention, miss,” Evan told her wearily, then stooped to lift her. She wasn’t much of a load, weighing no more than 80 pounds. Her scalp was left mostly bald with stray locks of wispy brown hair trailing down.

 

     “ _Yikes_. Never seen a nymph so mucked up in my life,” said Glenvar.

Evan replied, “Neither have I. I doubt she would have survived much longer this way.” Then he said to the faunae, “We’ll get you the help you need, alright? One day, you’ll look back on this and thank us, I assure you.”

 

     Thrashing uselessly in his arms, the faunae spat, “You may as well kill me! You may as well kill us all! One day _you_ shall look back on this and hide your faces in shame! You will know when the truth comes out! You will know! You will know!”

 

*

 

     Evening sun drew long shadows across the city. Light beamed through the western windows of the hall where Destiny and her colleagues walked together, clutching their tomes to their chests. They didn’t dare walk alone since the incident.

 

     Their fears were no more, however, as they reached the main entryway. There before the great doors stood the Freelance Good Guys, damp and filthy.

 

     Evan presented the squirming, emaciated faunae to Destiny and said with a weary smile, “We found the problem, miss. She was hiding down in the sewer. She and her vermin are a danger no longer.”

 

     Pink brows arching, Destiny shot a questioning look at her colleagues. They were at a loss for words. Then she turned back to the mercenaries, swept her hand towards the hall. “Come with us. We’ll discuss this further.”

 

     The mercenaries followed the minervae to a sitting room. Plush chairs surrounded a fine mahogany table, the walls lined with crowded bookshelves. Relieved, Glenvar moved to sit down. He grunted when Lukas snagged his arm, shaking his head.

 

     “Get sewer-juice on these chairs and we’re paying for it,” the archer warned. With a sigh, Glenvar remained standing while the minervae took their seats. Evan held the faunae upright, still cursing and thrashing in his grip.

 

     “She calls herself the ‘Rat Queen’,” explained Evan. “She was trapped in a…well, I’m not sure how to describe it. It was…it was, uh…”

“A straightjacket of vermin waste,” finished Lukas.

 

     Evan sighed, “Yes, thank you. It was vile beyond all measure, and this poor creature has somehow deluded herself into thinking it was what she wanted. She was enchanting rats to do her bidding.”

 

     “She was running some kind of deal with the Aquarian Alliance too,” added Alaine, wrinkling her nose at the faunae. “They were feeding the rats garbage. She traded jewelry for it. Probably stolen. Oh, and she says you’re killing monkeys or something.”

 

     Just as Destiny opened her mouth to speak, the Rat Queen screeched at her, “You despicable whores torture my friends as we speak! The beasts and I know the truth and we will never be silenced! Confess to these foolish goons, tell them what you really are! Cretins, cads, and sadists!”

 

     She craned her neck back, warned Evan, “They’ll take you first, you mongrel-man! You’ll be bound and battered with the dogs! Poked and prodded without a care! You’ll never see your family ag—”

 

     “That’s enough!” Destiny exclaimed. Her posture went rigid, a deep wrinkle carved between her brows. Anger quivered her voice just slightly when she said, “I hardly recognized you, Natoma. Last time we met, you were healthy and so very strong.” After a pause she added, “Though I see your unmistakable voice has grown no weaker. Do you deny the accusations against you?”

 

     “No, I don’t!” the faunae spat. “Unlike you, I don’t hide behind tricks and illusions! You preach love, but you practice murder! Yes, I sent an agent to kill Elegance—and I’d do it a thousand times over! I’d rip every one of your wretched tomes to shreds, consequences be damned!”

 

     Destiny’s colleagues gasped, squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. Destiny remained still, expression hardened with simmering fury.

 

     “I thought you nothing more than a pest,” Destiny told her bluntly. “That was foolish of me. I should have seen this coming the last time I looked into your wild eyes. But even I, a minervae, couldn’t predict this utter insanity. You’ve truly lost yourself, Natoma. You used to speak well of Karenza. You even blessed her—”

 

     “That was ages ago, before she birthed _you_ monstrosities!” barked Natoma. “I blessed Karenza because unlike the rest of her wretched her people, she showed mercy to the beasts! If you loved her so much, if you claim to have served her, then why do you torture Gaia’s animals like prisoners?”

 

     She bared her rotten teeth, spittle flying forth when she hissed, “Because you are vile, wicked, heretics! You’ve all sold your souls to a false goddess!”

 

     Destiny closed her eyes, shaking her head somberly. Her face contorted in anger as she opened her mouth, looked as if she might shout. Instead, she quickly closed it and let out a long, heavy sigh through her nostrils, softening the lines on her face.

 

     Turning to Evan, she said quietly, “My colleagues will show you to the dungeon. She’ll be held under maximum security indefinitely. Now please, take her away. I can’t stand to look at her any longer.”

 

     Evan nodded to her, then to his crew. Destiny’s colleagues rose and began leading them out the doorway.

“You’re all next! It’s only a matter of time!” the faunae wailed to the mercenaries. “They’ll take you too! Your friends, your family, you’ll wake up in cages! You’ll all know…!”

 

     Isaac paused in his tracks, looked back at Destiny. She was slumped over the arm of her chair, face buried deep in her hands. She looked as if she might cry.

 

     The boy’s voice cracked when he began, “Uh, you guys go ahead. I’m gonna wait here.”

Evan shot him a brief look of protest. Then he saw Destiny’s misery. His expression calmed.

 

     “Very well. We’ll be back later,” he said, and with that, they were gone. Isaac heard Natoma’s crazed shrieks echoing down the hall. He closed the heavy door to silence them, then made his way to Destiny’s side.

 

     A long silence passed. Isaac felt he should speak, but what could he possibly say? The words tumbled off his tongue, clumsy and course. “I’m, um, sorry about your…what happened to your friend, Destiny.” He swiped at his sweaty neck. “That lady’s so crazy, I don’t think she even knows she did wrong. I think she’s, like… _broken_.”

 

     Destiny let out a slow, heavy sigh. She sat upright again and pulled her hands from her face. Isaac noticed the way her fingertips glistened, but her voice was quiet and calm when she replied, “She is broken, but that doesn’t make her every word invalid. I do admire her convictions and her honesty. We at the Athenaeum do not have that luxury.”

 

     “What do you mean?” asked Isaac, furrowing his brow.

Destiny seemed reluctant to answer. Her gaze drifted this way and that, expression sullen. “I mean to say,” she began, “that my colleagues and I have chosen to sacrifice mercy for love. But love is not all beauty and grace, you see. Love can be a twisted and ugly thing too.”

 

     The minervae shook her head, rested her chin on her hand. “Natoma accuses us of senseless killing. She isn’t entirely wrong. Killing takes place at the Athenaeum, though it is hardly senseless. It is the most logical, benevolent justification you could ask for.”

 

     Isaac’s expression slacked, brows raised high. Suddenly he was regretting his decision to stay behind. She noticed his calculating glances towards the door and forced a grin, assured him, “Please don’t be afraid. You and your friends are in no danger here. It’s not like we gleefully round up victims just to watch their blood spill…”

 

     She leaned back and went on, “In the Athenaeum are many laboratories, and those laboratories need test subjects to conduct their research. Mostly rats, as Natoma said. We use these rats to cure diseases, to solve problems that threaten all the world’s peoples. As the farmer sacrifices a cow to see his family through winter, we sacrifice a subject to see mankind through disaster.”

 

     “So,” Isaac said slowly, “you experiment on animals? That’s what she’s mad about?”

Destiny nodded. “Yes. For decades she’s protested against the Athenaeum. But she is misguided, for she’s fixated so hard on the ugliness of what we do that she’s become blind to the beauty.”

 

     The minervae folded her hands in her lap. “Injecting live subjects with a disease is cruel. Monstrous, even. But does she consider _why_ we do such a thing? It’s not to revel in their suffering, but to end the suffering of the many. Natoma suffocates herself in her own perspective. Her heart aches for the beasts, but she’s never once considered how a sick child feels when the physician must tell them ‘there is no cure’. Does this make sense to you, young one?”

 

     Isaac’s stomach felt heavy. His gaze fell to the ornate rug, absently picking at his leather gauntlet. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

Destiny added, “Then I ask you this: did killing Elegance spare a single beast from our testing?”

Isaac shrugged. “Probably not?”

 

     “Correct. All Natoma has accomplished is spreading misery and taking a brilliant mind from this world. A mind that discovered the cure for pox-rot, mind you. I don’t know how many subjects fell to Elegance’s testing, but it surely pales in comparison to the number lives she’s saved.”

 

     “But,” Isaac began cautiously, digging his toe into the floor, “she said…she said you experiment on people too. That’s not true, right?”

 

     Destiny sighed. After a long pause, she went on, “Keep in mind, Natoma has never set a foot in our labs. Not even once. Whatever she says is what she’s deluded herself into believing.”

 

     She looked the boy in the eyes. “Whatever we do here, we are motivated by _love_. The other nymphs serve Mother Gaia, but we minervae love humanity even more than we love Her. It is the divine Karenza’s will.” She turned to the boy, eyes pleading. “After what I’ve confessed to you, I do hope you don’t think us soulless monsters.”

 

     The boy hesitated, jaw slacked as if he wanted to speak. But the words were still stuck in his brain, held hostage by the feelings in his heart. He was much too conflicted. Thoughts like these were too heavy to hold.

 

     So they slipped from his fingers and shattered upon the floor, and all Isaac could ask was, “Do you think, um…you guys could cure lycanthropy some day? Maybe soon?”

 

     Destiny’s face blanked, taken off-guard by the question. Then it quickly softened as a warm smile crept over her lips. “Our greatest minds are already on it, and I hear they’ve been making great advancements as of late. I would not be surprised if you saw a cure in your lifetime.”

 

     “What about someone who’s already, like, forty?” asked Isaac. “Will he see the cure?”

“In the world of research, nothing is certain. But that’s why we persist in the face of ugliness, to make sense of the unknown,” she said, rising to her feet.

 

     She pulled the door open and waved him through. “I hear your friends coming. Tell them you’re welcome to stay the night in our guest facilities, free of charge. I will meet with you tomorrow evening about your payment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to.”

 

     Isaac nodded as he stepped through the doorway. “Okay. Thanks, Destiny. I, um…hope you feel better. Losing someone you care about hurts really bad. I think it’s the worst pain there is.”

 

     The minervae smiled. “Love is wicked that way. It takes many forms; not all of them pleasant. But no matter what form it takes…” She tapped his nose. “Never fear love, Isaac.”

 

     With that, the heavy door clunked shut. The boy saw the other mercenaries approaching from the hall, their footsteps and enthused chatter echoing all the way down. Natoma was gone, likely sitting in the dungeon.

 

     Isaac moved to join his friends, though something wasn’t sitting right with him. He turned his conversation with Destiny over and over in his head, tried to make sense of the feeling.

 

     Finally it hit him, and the realization stopped him in his tracks.

 

     How did she know his name?

 

     Rushing back towards the door, Isaac raised his hand to the knob. It hovered there, unsteady, uncertain. Even behind the heavy wood, he thought he heard someone weeping.

 

     Should he intrude? Then he jumped, let out a yelp when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Evan chuckled, “Sorry, Isaac! I didn’t mean to startle you. Where did Destiny go?”

 

     Isaac stared at the door for a moment. He replied, “I think she’s done with us for now. She said she’ll pay us tomorrow, but the Athenaeum will board us tonight for free.”

 

     All at once, the other mercenaries let out a collective cheer. Glenvar shared a high-five with Alaine, then slapped Jeimos on the back. The skinny elf stumbled and nearly hit the floor. Evan caught them in one arm and righted them with a grin.

 

     “That’s fantastic news!” he said brightly. “You see, guys? This mess was all worth it in the end.”

Lukas grumbled, “It might be, after we hose the layers of shit off ourselves…”

Alaine nudged the archer and reminded him, “ _Waste_ , Lulu. When we hose the layers of _waste_ off ourselves.”

 

*

 

     Accommodations at the Athenaeum were fit for a palace. All six mercenaries were granted private rooms on the highest floor, great arched windows overlooking the capital city below. City lights burned like cinders in the darkness. It was nearly midnight now, and high time for the Freelance Good Guys to call it a day.

 

     While the rest of the crew retired to their beds, Lukas paced his hundredth lap around his room. Ever since he fled Uekoro all those years ago, he stopped sleeping through the night. Somehow he survived off tiny naps throughout the daylight hours, so brief that those around him never even realized he’d slept at all.

 

     Now he was alone with his insomnia, taunting him like a cruel and persistent jester. He couldn’t stand it a minute longer.

 

     Lukas threw a robe over his nightclothes and peeked out the door, looking down the long, dim hallway. All was silent and barren. He crept out and carefully closed the door behind him, tip-toeing barefoot down the corridor. Magical flames flickered in their sconces along the walls, illuminating the floral paper behind.

 

     He stopped before a door with a “9” etched into its wooden face. He didn’t bother knocking—too noisy. Instead, he carefully turned the knob and poked his head in, saw exactly what he expected: Evan asleep with an open book draped over his face. The candle on his bedside table was fighting for life in a pool of its own melted wax.

 

     Lukas stepped in and silently closed the door behind him. He approached the bed, stopped at arm’s length when he whispered, “Hey. Evan. Evan!”

 

     Lukas heard muffled snores from under the book. The captain was lost in a deep sleep.

“Evan!” Lukas whispered harshly. “It’s Lu! Wake up!”

 

     The snores abruptly halted and Evan’s whole body jerked. The book flew off his face as he shot upright, taking a wide swing with his fist. Lukas stood unfazed as the fist missed his nose by a couple inches. Evan sat up in his bed, staring at him through bleary eyes.

 

     After a short moment, they rounded and Evan gasped, “Lukas! I’m sorry, did I…?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Lukas told him, taking a seat on the bed’s edge.

Evan scrubbed at his eyes with one hand and tossed the book aside with the other. “What do you need?” he yawned.

 

     “Someone to break my skull open and scoop my horrible brain out,” Lukas told him bluntly.

“Well, I don’t do that. You’ll have to talk to Glenvar.”

The tiniest hint of a laugh puffed through Lukas’ nose. Evan offered a doleful smile, patted his back and added, “I’m sorry, friend. Is there anything I _can_ do for you?”

 

     The archer sighed as he palmed at his groggy face. “My head’s being cruel to me. I just don’t want to be alone with it right now.”

 

     With a nod of understanding, Evan shifted over, pulled the blanket back and gestured to the empty space. Lukas made himself comfortable there without a word. Tapping his fingers on his tongue, Evan reached over him and pinched the candle’s flame.

 

     The room was suddenly cloaked in cool darkness, window aglow with the moon above and the city below. Lukas stared through the glass for some time as Evan settled in and closed his eyes. He would fall asleep again soon, and Lukas knew that waking any one of his crewmates always meant gambling for a bruise. Whatever he intended to do, he had to do it now.

 

     Evan’s dreams nearly overtook him again. Dreams of dark, narrow tunnels that stretched on and on; nothing but uncertainty ahead and a horde of ravenous vermin behind.

 

     Suddenly, he was back in the Athenaeum with a start, eyes snapping open to the dark ceiling.

 

     He swore a rat had crawled over his face. But it was warm and smooth, delicate in its touch. Lukas was caressing his cheek, he realized, and then he felt the gentle press of his lips upon his own. It was all so familiar, he leaned into the kiss until his weary, bleary brain caught up.

 

     Evan suddenly pulled away. Lukas squinted, the outline of his features just barely visible in the moonlight.

“No. We—we can’t,” Evan told him hoarsely.

Lukas furrowed his brow. “Why not?”

“Lukas, I’m _taken_ ,” said Evan, as if it were the most obvious statement in the world.

 

     But it was not so obvious to Lukas, who replied sharply, “By who?”

“Your brother!”

Lukas’ eyes darkened under the shadow of his brow. “Jelani? _Still_?” He cocked his head in disbelief.

“What do you mean ‘still’?”

The archer shrugged. “I don’t know. Jelani usually pumps ‘em and dumps ‘em.”

“Lukas!”

 

     “What? Do you want honesty or not?” Lukas hissed. “I mean, that’s great. I’m—I’m happy for you. It’s just,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “when’s the last time you saw him? It’s been a while, right? I assumed things just fizzled out between you.”

 

     “Last summer,” Evan’s replied, voice weak with hesitance. He quickly added, “But we write eachother constantly! I have a box stuffed with his letters. He told me he keeps mine too. I’ve been getting two or three of them a week since we met. He really, truly loves me. If you saw the beautiful things he’s written to me, you’d understand. But they’re for my eyes only.”

 

     A silence passed between them.

“Really,” Lukas said flatly. He hardly knew his boorish brother as a poet. Evan couldn’t see the doubt on his face, but his voice was dripping with it.

 

     “Yes, really,” Evan snapped. “He’s a _king_ , Lukas. He’s very busy! It’s not like I can just hemorrhage time and gold flying to backwoods Serkel on a whim. I have this company to run and he has an entire village to look after.”

 

     Lukas sat upright, raising his palms. “Alright, alright.”

“Would you prefer if I ran off all the time and put you in charge? If you’re not going to sleep anyway, then you might as well sort paperwork all night and—”

“Evan, it’s fine! I get it!” Lukas sighed. He raked his fingers through his long locks, loose and puffy from days of neglect.

 

     “That’s not the impression I’m getting,” Evan told him, leaning his back against the plush headboard. “You sound rather judgmental. Or perhaps you’re feeling jealous? Is that it?”

 

     The archer rolled his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Oh, give me a damn break…” he muttered, then he stood up and straightened his robe. “Nevermind. I’m not doing this with you.”

 

     Evan’s expression softened when he asked, “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” queried Lukas. He planted his hand on the doorknob, turned back to Evan’s silhouette. “Actually, I appreciate moments like this. They remind me why I need to stop trying to make this work. I don’t miss bickering with you from dusk to dawn because you’re an insecure idiot who can’t let a single damn thing go!”

 

     He shook his head, sighed, “You know, if my tolerance for bullshit was just a hog’s hair higher, we’d be just like that Rat Queen. Stuck together and slowly killing eachother, convinced that we love it. That’s what’s been knocking around in my head tonight. I don’t know why I thought coming to you was a good idea.”

 

     The captain tossed the blanket aside, held the wall for balance as he stood up. His prosthetic leg was lying somewhere nearby. He grasped around for it as he pleaded, “Lukas, wait! Please don’t leave. I’m sorry, okay? I really am, I didn’t mean to—”

 

     “Stop it,” snapped Lukas, waving towards him as if swatting a fly. “You don’t need to make everything right all the time. Let things be twisted and ugly once in a while. Sometimes it’s for the best.”

 

     Evan opened his mouth to protest. He closed it as a heavy sigh gusted through his nostrils. Then he said simply, quietly, “I can’t stand when you’re mad at me.”

 

     Lukas almost smiled a little. “Well, tough shit.” He paused. “Sorry, I mean _waste_.”

Evan reached for him just as he heard the doorknob turn, called, “Hold on! I want you to know that I really am sorry. I do love you, and unfortunately I always will. Before you go, just…just tell me you’re going to be alright.”

 

     “I’ll manage.”

“Lu, please…”

The archer sighed, “I’ll be alright, Evan. I promise.” He heard a wooden thump, realized it was Evan dropping his prosthetic on the floor. Slowly the captain lowered himself onto the bed again.

 

     “Make some good coffee,” Evan told him. “Draw something nice and just think about…I don’t know, kittens or something.”

The smile tugged harder at Lukas’ lips. “Kittens. Sure,” he said, and then he disappeared through the doorway. He closed it as softly as he could manage, making not a sound.

 

     Just as he turned to sneak back to his room, he jumped back and let out a startled yelp. There stood Glenvar before him with a bottle of whiskey and a big, toothy grin on his bearded face.

 

     Lukas pressed his hand to his chest. He exhaled slowly, closed his eyes and hissed, “If I was armed, you’d be dead. You should know better than to sneak up on a man at night!”

 

     “What’s got ya so jumpy, Slim?” Glenvar giggled, pointing towards Evan’s door. “Ain’t that the chief’s room? What’cha doin’ sneakin’ outta _there_ at dark o’clock, huh?”

Lukas crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “I just—I had to ask him something. It’s really none of your business anyway.”

 

     “Huntin’ fer a raise, are ya?” The stout man playfully nudged him. “Hey, how many smooches ya gotta plant on his big, hairy arse before he coughs up a coin? Askin’ fer a friend!” Glenvar burst into giggles, but Lukas’ scowl only deepened.

 

     The archer’s face burned hot, fingers clawing into his arms. He tipped his head towards Glenvar’s bottle and barked, “And where are you going with a fifth of booze at dark o’clock? How many shots do you have to knock back before you can sleep at night, knowing what a miserable drunkard you are? Asking for a friend.”

 

     The laughter stopped as abruptly as the change in Glenvar’s face. His jaw went slack with shock, eyes heavy with hurt for only a brief second. Then they gleamed with anger, the _flamcor_ in his chest glowing bright under his cotton shirt. His fists quaked at his sides.

 

     The archer wheezed, breath knocked from his lungs as Glenvar suddenly shoved him against the wall. He socked him in the gut for good measure, then Glenvar and his whiskey stormed back down the hall.

 

     Before he disappeared around the corner, Glenvar growled back at Lukas, “Go kebab yerself on a centaur’s _kirk_ , ya arsehole! See if anyone cares when yer stiff in the ground! You’re a real piece of work, ya son of…!” his voice trailed off as he rounded the corner, footsteps stomping away into silence.

 

     Lukas hardly heard any of it as he doubled over in a coughing fit, clutching his bruising belly. In retrospect, and knowing Glenvar’s temper, he supposed he got off the hook easy. He caught his breath after a moment and staggered away back to his room.

 

     Maybe it was time to retire before his mouth got him in any more trouble. Coffee and kittens sounded more attractive by the second.

 

*

 

     Alaine fell asleep rigid as a board. Now she lie sprawled out diagonally across the bed, head turning, limbs flailing. Not a single pillow survived her night-thrashing, each one pitched to the ends of the room.

 

     Her blue brows furrowed in fury as she groaned through gnashed teeth, “Die, bastard, die…” She brought her fist up high, swung it down into the mattress in a stabbing motion. “No, don’t…don’t hurt them…!”

 

     “Allie?” a voice called from reality. Alaine jerked awake with a long, piercing screech. Glenvar cringed, quickly closing the door to block out the noise. The crew was used to it anyway, probably wouldn’t even wake. Sharing a tent with Alaine was never fun for anyone.

 

     “It’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just me!” Glenvar assured her. Her eyes were round and wild like those of a caged animal. They finally closed when she looked upon her crewman, and she collapsed bonelessly onto the bed.

 

     “Glen, what are you doing here?” the mermaid groaned, dragging a palm over her scaly face. She glanced at the clock ticking away on the wall. “It’s passed midnight!”

 

     Approaching sheepishly, Glenvar sat on the bed beside her. He waggled the bottle of whiskey in the air, asked, “Wanna share this swill with me?”

Alaine sat up and examined the bottle. “This late?” she asked with a quirk of her brow.

 

     Glenvar shrugged and meandered through excuses. “Hey, sure, why not? We finished the job. Might as well celebrate, right?”

“Glen, I’m…” Alaine sighed, swiping at her sore neck. “I’m kind of _sleeping_ here. Go drink with Luke. Gods know he’ll be awake.”

 

     “Aw, Luke’s a feckin’ arsehole! I’d rather drink piss with trolls than drink wine with him,” Glen spat bitterly. He turned the bottle over in his hands, expression falling sullen.

“Then just go to sleep,” suggested Alaine.

 

     A silence passed. Then Glenvar let out a sigh, admitted, “That ain’t gonna happen until I kill this thing.” He wiggled the bottle. “But it’s, uh…kind of a lot fer one _maska_ , don’tcha think? I don’t need to drink it all. I…”

 

     He swiped at his neck. “I don’t _wanna_ drink it all. Share it if ya got it, that’s what I always say.” His body quaked with a little laugh. Grin stretched wide, blue eyes looking desperate above.

 

     Alaine blinked. Slowly she nodded in understanding, took the bottle from his hands. Yanking the cork out with her teeth, she spit it on the floor and said, “That’s real considerate of you, Glen. I agree! No point in drinking without friends!”

“Right, right! See, Allie, you get me!” Glenvar exclaimed as she took a long swig.

 

     Screwing her eyes shut at its burn, Alaine passed the bottle back to Glenvar. He knocked back a drink while she stood up and swiped the leather case sitting across the room. Inside was her lute, a stringed instrument with sea shells glued to its shiny white face.

 

     She slung the strap over her shoulder and began strumming a lively tune. “Can’t party without music!” she said. Glenvar laughed in agreement, clapped his hands and stomped his booted foot in rhythm.

 

     Alaine swiped the bottle from the bedside table, took another drink before she began to sing:

 

     _“I know a man from old Greenhearst,_

_Got bit by a bum, came down with a curse,_

_He smells somethin’ awful, more hair than a dog,_

_Now he howls at the moon ‘n he eats like a hog!”_

 

     Glenvar whooped, raising the bottle high before taking a drink. Alaine snatched it from him, took a drink of her own and handed it back. Her teeth flashed in the darkness as she bounced here and there on her scaly toes, nightgown billowing around her knees.

 

     _“I know a prince from Uekoro,_

_He bends like a cat ‘n he’s sharp with a bow,_

_He’s smart as a fox ‘n he paints fine art,_

_But he’s a real sour bastard ‘n he has no heart!”_

 

     Glenvar fell backwards onto the bed as he howled with laughter. “That’s slick, _stira_! Do me next!”

The tempo quickened and Alaine sang brightly,

 

     _“I know a guy, he’s from Kirkmar,_

_He prays every day to the whale’s star,_

_Got a rock in his chest ‘n it burns real hot,_

_He’s short as a clover ‘n round as a pot!”_

 

     The two laughed together, Glenvar letting out barely more than a strained wheeze. He held his gut, nearly rolled off the bed as he reached for the bottle again. Alaine sang on,

 

     “ _I know a girl down from Laraine,_

_Big bad undine done stole her brain,_

_She cracks her lute ‘n snaps her string,_

_The sirenes say ‘that girl can’t sing!’_

_I know a mage, a Damijan,_

_They clap their hands ‘n then they’re gone,_

_They cry and they shake and they’re thin as a wire,_

_They clap their hands, then you’re on fire!_

_These folks found a boy one afternoon,_

_In a tomb in a void up on the moon,_

_He woke from the dead ‘n now he flies,_

_On a big mean roc over the skies!”_

 

*

 

     How was Isaac supposed to sleep when a war raged inside him? His heart and his brain on opposing sides, fighting a conflict that he wasn’t sure had an answer at all.

 

     The boy had enough of being a battleground. He tossed his blankets aside and rolled out of bed.

 

     He had to talk to Natoma, he thought. Usually when the Good Guys locked up the bad guys, Isaac felt a sense of relief. He didn’t feel that this time around, only a vague sense of guilt and unease.

 

     After speaking with Destiny, something kept nagging and nagging at him. A little voice telling him that something wasn’t right. He’d missed something.

 

     Isaac slipped on his shoes and crept quietly out of his room. He passed several doors in the hallway. As he passed room 2, he heard music and laughter behind the door. He stopped to listen. Just Alaine and Glenvar wailing drunken tunes, he realized, and moved on to the end of the long corridor.

 

     An armored attendant stood before the elevator—a hulking ogre with a massive cleaver at her hip. She was responsible for hoisting the elevator up and down. She was apparently responsible for keeping guests in their place too, Isaac discovered as she blocked his path.

 

     “Halt!” she barked, her voice like an imposing mountain. “Do you have permission to leave the guest floor?”

Isaac hesitated. “Uh…yes?”

“Present it to me,” the ogre demanded. She held out one massive, clawed hand, her green palm as rough as tree bark.

 

     The boy winced, caught in his lie. He patted the imaginary pockets on his pajamas and replied, “Oh, um, I must have dropped it or something. But I’m with the Freelance Good Guys. Destiny knows us!”

 

     The ogre looked down at him doubtfully. She shoved him back with her finger, told him, “I don’t care who you are. Come back with a pass.”

“I just want to talk to someone in the dungeon real quick. I swear I won’t cause trouble. You can even come with me!”

 

     “I only leave my post if there’s a problem,” the ogre rumbled, reaching back to clutch the handle of her cleaver. “Are you going to be a problem, little man?”

 

     Isaac stepped back, raising his palms in defeat. “No, no! Nevermind. Um, it’s not that important.” With that, he turned and shuffled back down the hall. His hand hovered over his doorknob. Then he thought against it, opened the door beside it instead.

 

     “Jeimos?” he whispered into the darkness. He stepped inside and softly closed the door behind him. Approaching the bed, he saw the elf’s face bathed in cool moonlight from the window. They were fast asleep in their modest black gown, curled up around a herd of colorful stuffed animals.

 

     Isaac touched Jeimos’ shoulder. “Jeimos?” he whispered again. He gasped, jumped back when the elf shot upright. Their wide eyes lit up the room with their red-hot glow, black smoke billowing from their mouth and nostrils.

 

     “W-who’s there?” they called frantically.

“It’s Isaac! Just Isaac!” the boy assured them. Jeimos let out a smoky exhale, closing their eyes. When they opened them again, the fiery glow was gone.

 

     They queried, “What are you doing up at this hour? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Isaac told them quickly. “I just need your help with something. I gotta talk to Natoma, but the door lady won’t let me. Can you like, zoop me into the dungeon real quick?”

 

     Jeimos furrowed their brow, squinting at him in the darkness. “Why on Gaia would you want to talk to _her_?”

 

     “Because…I don’t know, I feel like we might have screwed up,” Isaac explained quietly. “There’s more to this whole thing than we’re being told. I think Natoma might be on to something, but nobody’s listening to her. We just called her ‘crazy’ and shoved her in a cage.”

 

     “Isaac,” Jeimos began with a sigh, pinching the bridge of their long nose, “she _is_ crazy. You must understand that just because someone is passionate does not mean they’re right. Nobody listens to her because her mad ravings are not worth listening to.”

 

     The boy argued, “But what if they are? What if she’s right and the Athenaeum is doing evil stuff? I mean, security won’t let us go _anywhere_ without permission. They gotta be hiding something, right?”

 

     “I highly doubt that,” replied Jeimos. They folded their arms over their knees and went on, “Think about it. It was quite generous of them to let some backwater sellswords like us stay here at all. This place contains all the world’s knowledge, you know. All of it! Could you imagine if a terrorist made their way in here and set the place ablaze? It would be catastrophic! Millennia of progress, gone in an instant!”

 

     They shook their head, face contorting in disgust. “That wretched nymph is exactly where she belongs. She’ll be lucky if she’s not executed after what she’s done.”

 

     Isaac asked, “But she’s a fae, and fae can’t tell lies. There has to be _some_ truth to what she says.”

“No, there really doesn’t,” Jeimos told him sharply. “We fae can only speak what we _believe_ to be true. And if a fae’s brain is full of mad nonsense, then nothing they say can be trusted.”

 

     Jeimos turned to the boy, expression as burdened as their tone. “You can’t reason with a lunatic, Isaac. I know this lesson better than anyone, I assure you. I don’t want you speaking with that nymph again.”

 

     “But wh—”

“It is not a discussion! Now please, go to your room and get some sleep. We’ll be speaking with Ms. Destiny tomorrow and we must be at our very best. I don’t want you to worry yourself over this any longer.”

 

     The elf paused. Then they reached forth, brushing the curly black locks from Isaac’s eyes. “Though that’s much easier said than done, I know. I’m sorry, Izzy. Here, would you like a little friend to keep you company?” Jeimos offered a plush tiger from their pile. “This is Rory. He’s a very brave chap. He’ll keep the worries away.”

 

     Isaac rolled his eyes and groaned, “Come on, Jay. I’m not a kid anymore…”

Jeimos frowned. “Well, I’m sixty-something years your senior. You’ll always be one to me!”

 

     They shoved the tiger into Isaac’s arms, then walked him towards the door. “It’s been a very long and, er…e _ventful_ day. We’ll all feel better tomorrow, I’m sure.”

 

     The door closed behind him. Isaac stood in the hall for a long moment, feeling lost and foolish with a stuffed animal in his hand. He looked at its beady glass eyes and sighed. The feeling was still there—that twist in his gut, the buzz in his nerves. Sleep seemed like a joke.

 

     Isaac looked down the long hallway towards the elevator. The attendant leaned against the wall with a paperback novel, dwarfed in her giant hand. Then he looked back at Rory the tiger.

 

     He had an idea.

 

*

 

     “Help! Help!” a voice called from down the hall. The ogre attendant snapped to attention, tossing her book to the side. A boy sprinted towards her in his pajamas, the same boy she spoke to an hour prior.

 

     Stopping before her, he panted, “I saw a—a rat! A big titan rat!”

The ogre’s heavy brow shot up. She whipped her cleaver from its scabbard and barked, “Where is it?”

“Down there, around the corner,” Isaac pointed down the hall, “Hurry, hurry, get it before it kills someone!”

 

     The ogre wasted no time, each footstep booming as she lumbered down the hall. When the tip of her leathery tail disappeared around the corner, Isaac pulled the elevator door open and let himself in.

 

     It was but a brass cage sitting in a dark chute. He rang the bell on the wall once for “floor 1”, and in seconds, the cage began to descend.

 

     When it reached the bottom, Isaac wrenched the door open and bolted out. He barely made five paces before something snagged him. Another ogre grabbed the boy by the hair and lifted him high off the ground. Isaac kicked and yowled, clawed at his leathery fingers.

 

     “Ow, ow, ow! That’s my hair! Let me go!” he wailed.

The attendant scowled back at him, rumbled, “You won’t proceed without a pass.”

“You’re ripping my scalp off, man!” Isaac grunted through gnashed teeth. “I—I don’t have a pass!”

Finally, his feet touched the floor.

 

     “Then you’re a problem,” growled the ogre. That said, he kept his hold on Isaac’s hair and dragged him back into the elevator. Isaac pouted silently beside him on the ride to the guest floor. Admittedly, he didn’t think his plan through this far.

 

     The door woman from before hoisted them up, tugging the system of ropes and pulleys beside her. When the cage door opened, she presented Rory to Isaac and growled, “Is this your _rat_?”

 

*

 

     Evan awoke at a heavy knocking on his door. Blindly, groggily, he swiped at his false leg lying somewhere on the floor.

 

     “I’ll be right there!” he called as he slipped it on, tightening the straps above his knee. This prosthetic vaguely resembled a leg, unlike his old rusty metal peg, though he still wasn’t used to its weight.

 

     He swiped his robe off the bedpost, pulling it on as he staggered towards the door. He was taken aback by the towering ogre standing behind it. She held Isaac by the neck of his pajama shirt, the boy squirming uselessly in her grip.

 

     “This one says he’s with you,” the ogre told Evan, shoving Isaac into his room. Evan caught him as he stumbled forth. The ogre rumbled on, “He was trying to breach security. Be grateful I returned him to you in one piece, because if he weren’t a mere child, we’d be mopping him off the floor.”

 

     She jabbed Isaac’s chest with her claw and added, “One more infraction and you will be kicked from the Athenaeum! Do you understand?”

“Yes…” Isaac grumbled, rubbing the sore spot on his chest.

 

     Evan tipped his head to the ogre and blathered, “My sincerest apologies, ma’am! This won’t happen again, you have my word. I don’t condone this kind of behavior on my crew.”

 

     The ogre mumbled something under her breath as she turned, shooting Isaac one last glare before lumbering away. Evan closed the door behind her.

Then he quickly seized Isaac’s shoulders and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing, Isaac? Are you _trying_ to ruin me?”

 

     “No!” exclaimed Isaac, jerking out of his grip. “I’m just trying to do the right thing and no one’s listening to me! Just like they wouldn’t listen to Natoma!”

 

     Evan quirked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Isaac jabbed an accusatory finger at him and went on, “You said she would get a trial, but she didn’t! You went along with it and threw her away, just ‘cause the minervae told you to!”

 

     “The minervae clearly know the situation better than we do,” Evan explained. “They hired us to do a job and we did it. That nymph was out of her mind, and a murder confession is enough proof for me.”

“But she said the minervae were killing people too and no one listened! Shouldn’t we investigate _that_?”

 

     Shooting the boy a strange look, Evan queried, “What’s gotten into you today? Of all the times to lose your head, must you do it during the worst possible time, in the worst possible place?”

 

     “Evan, please _listen_ to me!” Isaac nearly shouted with a stomp of his foot. “Something isn’t right, I just know it! I talked to Destiny earlier and she told me some really creepy stuff.”

“What did she say?”

“Well…” The boy hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “Actually, it’s what she _didn’t_ say. She never said they _don’t_ experiment on people.”

 

     The captain’s expression dropped, looking doubtful. “Isaac, really now…”

“You weren’t there, okay?” Frustrated, Isaac spoke through his teeth. “I mean, let’s say Natoma was telling the truth and these guys are up to some horrible, mad scientist kind of stuff. If they are, then we put the wrong person behind bars!”

 

     “They aren’t,” Evan told him. “That’s ridiculous.”

“We don’t know that! What if they _are_?”

Shaking his head, Evan fell quiet for a long moment. Wearily, he collapsed in a nearby chair, said, “If they are, then that changes nothing. We meet with Destiny, we collect our payment, and then we go home either way.”

 

     “But—”

“And I’ll explain why,” Evan continued, raising a finger. “Because as much as we’d like to be the good guys, and as much as we’d like to do the right thing one hundred percent of the time, it simply isn’t possible. Sometimes good people have to do bad things for the greater good.”

 

     “And what’s the greater good here?” Isaac asked flatly.

Evan replied, “Think of it this way: if we challenge the Athenaeum, we’ll most certainly be arrested, and we’ll most certainly be useless rotting behind bars. But if we accept our pay tomorrow, we walk free to right the wrongs we _can_ handle.”

 

     He shot the boy an apologetic look when he added, “There will be times in life when you see injustice and you will have no choice but to walk away. There really are times when we must let things be twisted and ugly.”

 

     Isaac leaned against the wall, letting out a meandering groan. He dragged his palms down his face and said, “I hate it, Evan…”

“I know. I hate it too.”

“So that’s it? I’m supposed to just…” Isaac sighed, tossing his hands up. “Let it go and not think about it anymore? _How_? It’s killing me!”

 

     At this, Evan chuckled. It was a low and bitter sound. “The guilt never really goes away,” he explained, gesturing to the clock on the wall. “Over the years, you just tune it out, like a ticking clock. You still hear it, but it’ll only keep you awake if you dwell on it. Don’t dwell on it, son.”

 

     Isaac wasn’t exactly satisfied with the answer, but had nothing to counter it either. After a long, thoughtful silence, he looked up at Evan and began, “Hey, um…just curious…”

“Yes?”

“If the Athenaeum had cure for lycanthropy, would you take it?”

 

     Evan recoiled a bit, caught off-guard. He opened his mouth to answer, had several false starts. He settled with, “That’s quite a heavy question. Why do you ask?”

Isaac shrugged. “I dunno. Destiny said they might have one someday. Would you?”

 

     “I, er…” Evan sighed, slumped down in the chair. Scrubbing at his face, he answered, “I don’t know, Isaac. I really don’t know what I would do. I’ll have to cross that bridge when—if—I come to it.”

 

     That answer didn’t satisfy either. But the boy accepted it with a simple nod, knew he wasn’t going to get a better one any time soon.

 

     A sudden exhaustion claimed Isaac when he left the room. As if all the excitement of the day caught up to him at once, crushing him like a boulder. He trudged off towards his door, nearly tripped over something in the hall.

 

     It was Rory, he realized. The attendant had so carelessly dropped him while she was dragging Isaac around like a ragdoll.

 

     He picked up the toy and took it with him to his room. Collapsing on the bed, he looked this way and that for prying eyes. No one around, no strangers peeking through his window. So he hugged the doll close and shut his eyes.

 

     Maybe it was pure exhaustion. Or maybe Rory was as useful as Jeimos said. Either way, the war in Isaac finally calmed and he slipped into a quiet sleep. The clock on his wall ticked away all through the night.

 

*

 

     None of the mercenaries slept well. Each of them rose at dawn regardless, washed and dressed like civilized folk before converging at the elevator.

 

     That morning, a minervae’s assistant delivered badges to them. These were their passes, shiny bronze discs with “LVL 3 CLEARANCE” engraved on them.

 

     With these badges they could ride the elevator, but only to certain floors. Security guards let them pass through some doors and not others. Evan was surprised when they let him into the vast library, where the minervae and their students studied all night and day.

 

     These shelves held the rarest and most valuable literature in the world. Evan craned his neck up at the floors upon floors above, books towering up to the sky. This was his last day in this marvelous place and he was determined to make it count. He rummaged through the shelves like a desperate vagrant in a trash heap, searching for valuable scraps.

 

     Meanwhile, Alaine found her way to the music hall. All manner of grand instruments lie in this room, where musicians composed sophisticated melodies both mundane and magical. Alaine presented her lute and warbled a foreign, folksy tune among them. They paid her odd stares for a moment, but soon, charmed smiles spread over the musicians’ faces and they began to play along.

 

     Glenvar followed his stomach to the cafeteria. When he flashed his badge at the cooks, they piled a plate high with fried rice, scrambled hog-hawk eggs, and _setsiki_ brains.

 

     Though he searched and searched, he found only milk and water to drink. Of course, he thought, for it wasn’t even noon. But with enough flattery, he cleverly convinced a maenad to share her everlasting amphora with him.

 

     While Glenvar was day-drinking with nymphs, Lukas was just a wall away in the Athenaeum’s museum. The great space was stuffed with worldly artifacts, some even predating the Great Kingdoms.

 

     Lukas didn’t care much for the artifacts. It was the art he admired, finally laying eyes upon Looming Gaia’s most famous pieces in person. Not cheap reproductions, but the clay and canvases touched by the hands of the old masters.

 

     Later in the day when the stars just began to twinkle in the blue sky, Jeimos met an astronomer in their wanderings. She took the elf to her observatory, holding a powerful telescope of Zareenite design.

 

     The contraption stood ten men tall, reaching for the glass domed ceiling. Jeimos couldn’t contain their excitement when the astronomer swept them towards it. “Give it a try,” she said.

 

     Isaac spent the day meandering around aimlessly with his thoughts. He tried to speak with the minervae about Natoma, but every one of them brushed him off like a pest. They told him they were busy, they were grieving, they were not in the mood to chat.

 

     Eventually he found himself in the scenic courtyard. The Midland heat was oppressive, even now so late in the day. Isaac finished picking a fistful of blooms from a patch of Matuzan lilies and hurried back inside.

 

     Indoors, magical everfloe crystals sat in sconces along the walls. They kept the Athenaeum at a bearable temperature all year long.

 

     Isaac took the lilies to the library. Elegance’s memorial was still there upon the burgundy-stained tiles. It was a shrine made of lush wreaths, cards, charms, and flowers surrounding an ivory bust.

 

     The bust must have been in Elegance’s image, Isaac thought, and if so, then she was an elegant and regal-looking minervae indeed. Her hair was worn high in a fancy updo, her neck adorned with pearls.

 

     Isaac never got the chance to meet her. She could have been a wretched, evil person for all he knew. But her passing brought a great sorrow over the Athenaeum that he could still sense today. It was inescapable. She must have been something special to someone.

 

     Isaac set the lilies among the other offerings. As he paid a brief moment of silence, he heard someone walking up from behind. He knew it was Evan without a glance, for his footfalls were uneven from his crooked gait.

 

     The captain stopped beside him and said, “They must have really loved her around here.”

Isaac nodded. “Yeah.”

“We’re very lucky to be here today, aren’t we?” Evan grinned. “Remember this place well, because this may be the last time we’ll ever see it. Opportunities like this don’t come around often.”

 

     He was doing his best to cheer the boy up, but Isaac’s stubborn misery didn’t budge.

Evan asked him, “Did you enjoy your time here at all? I mean, aside from the sewers. That wasn’t fun for any of us.”

“I guess so. It’s just,” Isaac sighed, “there’s a lot of really big problems in the world.”

 

     Evan almost laughed. “Oh, don’t I know it!” he clamped a hand on the boy’s shoulder, began leading him through the main doorway. “It’ll be dark soon. Let’s go speak with Destiny. Then we can go home and put this job behind us.”

 

     The two made their way back to the sitting room, where Destiny and the other mercenaries were waiting. Glenvar waved at them from his chair, reclined sideways with his legs hanging over the arm. “There they are! And yer always barkin’ at _us_ fer bein’ late!” he crowed.

 

     Evan silently pushed his crewman’s feet to the floor. “Sit properly,” he hissed, then took his own seat beside him. He tipped his head towards Destiny and said, “My apologies, Ms. Destiny. We thank you for letting us explore the Athenaeum today. It is a truly remarkable place that we won’t soon forget.”

 

     The minervae offered a smile, though her eyes weren’t in it. “My pleasure, Mr. Atlas. I want people to see the amazing feats we accomplish here, even if I must butt heads with security about it. Now, I’m sure you’d like to be paid for all that trouble yesterday…”

 

     At her hip was a fine leather satchel. She pulled a square of paper from it and handed it to Evan. “You may cash this in at any Matuzan bank. I’ve decided to award you additional gold for your efforts. You’ve done the Athenaeum—nay, the _world_ —a great service by capturing Natoma.”

 

     Evan took the check, his brows shooting up when he laid eyes upon the number. It was three times higher than what they agreed upon. A smile spread over his face as he extended a hand to her. “You’re too kind, miss. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

 

     Isaac’s expression soured as his captain shook hands with Destiny. He sank down in his chair, arms crossed tightly.

 

     Destiny added, “We are always reluctant to hire outside help, for our experiences in the past have been…” Her lips strained. “Shall we say, _unsavory_. Our kingdom for a righteous sellsword, who we can trust will not steal our priceless treasures, gorge themselves on alcohol and ransack our facility.”

 

     Her pink eyes met each of the mercenaries’ as she went on, “Your company seems to have a favorable reputation, and I see it is not unfounded. You’ve proven yourselves competent and trustworthy, and if it were up to me, I would do business with you again in a heartbeat.”

 

     Evan beamed, posture righting. Then his expression fell with Destiny’s when she added sullenly, “But unfortunately, it is not up to me. The master director feels you’ve seen too much, and from this day forward you will not be permitted within the Athenaeum again.”

 

     “’Seen too much?’ What’s that s’posed to mean?” blurted Glenvar. Evan quickly hushed him.

“Please don’t take it personally,” explained Destiny, folding her hands before her. “I’m told that given our past experiences with mercenary companies, there are concerns of theft and such. The things we hold here cannot exactly be replaced, you understand. It’s just standard protocol. I do hope you’re not offended.”

 

     Evan leaned back in his seat, forcing the most pathetic smile he could muster. “Not at all. That’s quite understandable,” he lied.

 

     Destiny turned to Isaac and said, “Since we may never cross paths again, I wanted to give you something before you go.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a leatherbound book. No ordinary book, but her sacred Tome of Infinity. She handed it to Isaac, but the boy didn’t take it right away.

 

     His wide, questioning eyes flicked between the book and the minervae. “Your magic book? Don’t you, like…need that?” he asked.

 

     Destiny’s smile was doleful as she told him, “Not really, no. Everything in this old tome is also up here.” She tapped her finger against her head. “Given what happened to Elegance, I feel it’s no longer safe at the Athenaeum. I trust it more in the hands of heroes like yourselves.”

 

     Cautiously, Isaac took the tome from her. It was light as a feather in his hands, but otherwise seemed unremarkable. He briefly flipped through the pages, found each one blank.

 

     “There’s nothing in here,” he said.

“Oh, but there is plenty,” Destiny told him. “Lifetimes upon lifetimes of knowledge! You’re just not meant to see it yet.”

Isaac closed the book and looked up at her again, furrowing his brow in utter confusion. “But why _me_? You don’t even know me.”

 

     Destiny suddenly laughed, high and bright. The mercenaries looked on awkwardly, feeling just as lost as Isaac. “Just take care of my tome and it will explain everything in time,” she told Isaac with a warm smile. “Treat it as you would, say, a letter from a lost loved one. You wouldn’t want to lose something like that.”

 

     Isaac tried to hand the tome back to her. “This, uh, seems like a bad idea, Ms. Destiny. One time Evan gave me his wallet and somehow I dropped it off the side of a ship. I also lost Lukas’ watch in the town cesspit. I can’t be trusted with this thing. Seriously, I’m an idiot.”

 

     But Destiny just chuckled and pushed the tome back to him, replied, “I find that when the stakes are highest, we grow our tallest to face them. Do you really doubt a minervae, child?”

 

     Isaac hesitated. “I guess I shouldn’t,” he answered.

Destiny grinned. “You are more capable than you know. Trust in yourself and what you feel is right, even when the world is doubting you.” She glanced at Evan and added, “And knowing this, never fight a battle you were not called to, for your own will call you in time.”

 

     The Freelance Good Guys left the Athenaeum just before sunset. Silently they made their way out the grand gate. Once they stepped onto the road, Jeimos blurted, “She was rather strange, wasn’t she?”

“Jeimos…” Evan sighed.

 

     They began walking towards the dragon port. Alaine mentioned, “No, Jay’s right. All those Athenaeum people were super weird.”

“Bein’ smart makes you crazy, that’s what I always say,” said Glenvar.

 

     “They were very kind and hospitable to us,” Evan told his crew sharply. A frown burdened his face when he added, “Though I am quite disappointed that we won’t be allowed back. I thought for sure they’d sign us on for something long-term.”

 

     He turned to Isaac and gave him a nudge. “You’d better take special care of that tome, boy. If you drop it in the cesspit, I’ll…” he trailed off, unsure himself.

 

     “He’ll drop _you_ in the cess pit!” Glenvar chortled.

“I’ll be very _cross_ with you,” Evan decided calmly. “We’ll go to the blacksmith and have some kind of box made. Something to keep it safe.”

 

     Isaac hugged the book close to his chest. “It has to be fireproof,” he said. “And water-tight. And it needs a lock. And we each need a key in case I lose mine, because I’ll definitely lose mine. Probably in the cesspit, somehow.”

 

     Evan smiled, patting the check in his pocket. “Don’t worry. We’ll spare no expense.”

 

     When the mercenaries arrived at the port, they handed their ticket to the goblin attendant and he led them to the stables. They heard Shadow squawking madly inside. The instant the attendant unlocked the door, he was bowled over as Shadow burst out.

 

     She ran towards Isaac with great wings outstretched, sitting on him as if he were a cold, neglected egg. She cooed and nuzzled his head with her beak as he flailed from under her, wailed, “Shadow, no! Stop it! You’re crushing the book! _You’re crushing the book_! Guys!”

 

     His crewmen seized Shadow by her harness, and together with a great heave, they pulled her off of him. Isaac shot to his feet and turned the tome over in his hands, checking for even the tiniest scratch. Aside from some dirt, it seemed fine.

 

     He brushed the dirt away with a heavy exhale, then held the book up to Shadow and told her, “See this, Shadow? It’s a Tome of Infinity. A minervae trusted me with this, and if anything bad happens to it, it happens to her too. So we have to protect it no matter what, okay?”

 

     The bird tilted her head, round pupils shrinking and expanding as she observed the tome. She tipped her head forward and nibbled its edge.

 

     Quickly Isaac jerked it away, his voice cracking when he cried, “No, no, no! Bad! Not food!”

Evan patted the boy’s shoulder. “Shall we find that lockbox, then?” he teased.

 

     Isaac handed the book off to his crew before taking his place in the roc’s saddle. The rest of the crew loaded into the gazebo. Shadow grasped its top in her talons and took to the starry sky.

 

     Flying across the Midlands in its unbearable daytime heat, packed shoulder-to-shoulder in a little gazebo was an experience they avoided whenever possible. But the night air was cool and refreshing, blowing through the thatched windows as they planned their next move.

 

     “We’ll stop in Uekoro to cash our check. Then I’m taking my share and staying there for the week,” Evan decided. “I’ll see you all back at home later. Lukas, tell Mrs. Ginger to tend my house for me, and I’ll pay her extra to sort my paperwork so you won’t have to.”

 

     Lukas furrowed his brow. “Uekoro?”

“It’s a beautiful place. Good food, good weather.” Evan shrugged. “After that miserable experience with the Rat Queen, I think I deserve a vacation.”

 

     Alaine giggled, gave the captain a shove. “You don’t have to make excuses, Atty. Go suck face with your rich, handsome boyfriend. No one’s judging you.”

Evan shot a glance at Lukas. “Well, I’d hope not,” he said.

Leaning back against the wall, Lukas rolled his eyes and said nothing more.

 

     The crew passed the next several hours discussing food, sharing memories, and debating politics. They played card games until Glenvar opened the window to smoke a cigar and half of the deck flew out, snatched away by the wind.

 

     But Uekoro was only a few minutes ahead anyway, its lights glowing through the dark jungle.

 

     Jeimos peeked out the window and grinned. “I see Fanaka Palace. We’re almost there, chaps!”

“No, we’re not,” Lukas said flatly. The rest of the crew turned to him.

Alaine asked, “What do you mean? It’s right there, dummy.” She pointed out the window towards the twinkling orange lights.

 

     Lukas’ tone dripped with misery when he explained, “So close, yet so far away. Because I just realized we forgot our gear at the damn gate again…”

 

     A stunned silence fell over the gazebo. Glenvar threw his hands over his face and let out a long, escalating groan. He dropped to the floor. The others slid down with him with a collective grumble. All but Evan, who unbuttoned the thatched window.

 

     He poked his head out and called to Isaac, “Flip the bird, son! Turns out we’re _all_ idiots!”

 

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the shorter stories in the series, but it's super integral to the plotline later on. This won't be the last we'll see of the Athenaeum or the lovely Rat Queen. ;) If you noticed any mistakes or anything that could be improved, please leave a comment and let me know. And as always thank you so much for reading!


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